<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>lifening by psycho_raven</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417320">lifening</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycho_raven/pseuds/psycho_raven'>psycho_raven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(im talking about sakumo), Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Retelling, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, M/M, Typical canon angst, lots of flashbacks, mentions of canon character suicide, typical kakashi depression</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:02:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycho_raven/pseuds/psycho_raven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fear and rejection are similar when they mix in young hearts and nest new terrors, where there should be love and flowers, not dust and ashes. This is how flowers bloomed again in Kakashi's heart. </p><p>(Or: this is my love letter to Kakashi, and this is his love letter to Obito).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lifening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The night Kakashi found his father's lifeless body on the floor of his house’s living room, he didn’t scream or cry. Not even a sob.</p><p>It could have been anything, then. A poorly closed jar of jam or a broken plate, but the blood clung to every surface, dark and sticky. The kitchen suddenly seemed too big and white. Like hospitals. Like the morgues.</p><p>A fitting end for Konoha’s White Fang.</p><p>Kakashi stood there in the deepest silence, standing beside the body that could barely hide the pink and red interiors with his weight, scattered on the floor, the blade buried in his abdomen with the lethal precision of ninjas.</p><p>But he could see them, wet and sticky, intestines still warm. The image stayed. The smell of death and fresh blood entered his lungs and withered all the flowers that could have grown inside him.</p><p>His hands, clasped in two white fists, still showed wounded knuckles, scrapes he had gained days before by hitting the face of much older ninjas whom he heard speak ill of his father. Look down everything Sakumo taught him.</p><p>After the incident, he had been proud of those marks, like war wounds for defending what was important. His father wiped his small pale hands with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.</p><p>It was in that moment when Kakashi began to know the deepest sadness of all and understood that he couldn’t silence the murmurs that filled all the corners of the village (the corners of his house, of his father’s heart). Not with his fists so small, not when they were so many.</p><p>The night Sakumo ended his life, Kakashi understood that they had won.</p><p> </p><p>*<br/><br/></p><p>Sakumo took a white comb in his large adult hands and tried to slip it through his son's tangled hair.</p><p>"Ninjas don't need something as useless as brushing their hair, Dad." Kakashi muttered, "Instead, we should train again."</p><p>Sakumo's light laughter filled the room. He settled his son on his knee, trying to remove the hair from his face. "Ah, your mother would kill me if she saw you like this."</p><p>Kakashi watched his father carefully leave the comb on the cabinet, noting the previously hidden details: The material similar to a seashell, an inscription with a female name on the reverse.</p><p>It was one of the few times that Kakashi heard his dad mention his mother.</p><p>He thought that if he insisted on letting his hair fall over his eyes, Sakumo would eventually tell him something else about her. It was a smart strategy, smarter than asking him directly and receiving that sad look that made him understand things that a four-year-old shouldn’t</p><p>But his mom was dead. Four years from that, the same age as Kakashi. There was no more family, near or far. It was just them in a house that sometimes got too big and too empty.</p><p>When that feeling became obvious between them, almost tangible, Sakumo used to take Kakashi in his arms. Kakashi settled there, like one of the Ninken, while his father told him <em>tomorrow, tomorrow we will go shopping and decorate the house. </em></p><p>They never went. </p><p>Kakashi didn’t give it much importance because Sakumo accompanied him to the park where he played with the other children, took him out to train or to camp in the mountains. Why should it matter if he didn't hang pictures on the walls?</p><p>Years later, Kakashi came by chance to read a short article about sadness and its dangers; something about empty rooms and how people get lost in them. How they disappear.</p><p> </p><p>*<br/><br/></p><p>What followed next happened automatically, mechanically: To give notice to the Hokage, remove the body, property, inheritance, ceremony. Kakashi was six years old then, old enough in wartimes.</p><p><em> There are no resources to take care of every orphaned child</em>, the council murmured.</p><p>Kakashi didn’t utter a single word throughout the process. Sitting in front of the Hokage's office, his feet didn’t touch the ground, the chair too big for a child so little. But Kakashi didn’t feel small. </p><p>He received the papers accrediting him in possession of his father's money. He didn’t sell the house, but he bought an apartment sufficient for one person. It didn't take long.</p><p>Most of the belongings were kept in well-organized boxes, with a few exceptions: A couple of photos gnawed by time, the old shell comb, and his father's tanto. He stopped thinking about all of it, neither in the procedures nor in the moving. </p><p>That day and the days that followed, he acted purely from instinct, as ninjas were supposed to act, following rules carefully indicated in the instructions given to each student of the academy. </p><p>When his uniform was delivered, Kakashi kept the scarf that his father had given to him in the same box where he kept the rest of his old possessions, hiding everything, fragments of himself.</p><p>Kakashi didn’t remember later how all the bureaucracy happened, however, what remained in his memory was the mourning, the burial, the wake:</p><p>On the first day, people came out of curiosity. Kakashi was lost in the back of the room, still and transparent. He saw them come one from one, murmuring how terrible and unfortunate everything had been, the bad omen that it was in times of war. The bad luck of losing such a good soldier when there were so many battles left to win.</p><p>The room became small, stifling. Kakashi felt the walls shrink around him with every whispered word reaching his ears.</p><p>Some regretted what happened, those who remembered Sakumo as a noble and kind person. Instead of offering relief, those words only confused him... Who was his father? A good person or a traitor? Who decides that? </p><p>His head kept spinning with every new thought, so Kakashi decided to silence them. </p><p>Among all the anonymous silhouettes, he recognized one. A person he had never seen, but whose haughty demeanor and raw words made something within Kakashi shake.</p><p>"I never asked him to save me, I knew what I was doing."</p><p>"How terrible, committing suicide to escape the outcome."</p><p>"Yeah, and one has to live in this world after the dead are gone. We are the ones left with the consequences"</p><p>“How selfish.” </p><p>“What a coward.” </p><p>Kakashi felt his blood icy, the weight of the world anchored him to that place in the room. </p><p>He didn't say anything, didn't move until the guy his father died for left the place. It didn't take long, no. He just wanted to check what happened, spit one last time into the memory of Sakumo Hatake.</p><p>It wasn't until the place was empty that he noticed the nail’s marks on the palm of his hands. He swallowed, feeling the acid of resentment burn his throat. Life continued.</p><p>Nobody went to the funeral. No further announcement for it was given, almost clandestinely to forget what had happened, as soon as possible.</p><p>A wooden box hitting the damp earth meters below the ground and nothing else. Kakashi watched the rite almost nonchalantly, unable to relate his father to the colorless, impersonal grave that was left once they landed on the drawer.</p><p>Kakashi walked home alone that night, his hands in his pockets and his gaze covered by a dark veil. He didn’t return to the academy. He graduated with honors, they needed people for the war. Soldiers. </p><p>He knew what the battlefield was almost immediately, but it was no problem, Kakashi was already familiar with death.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>But there was someone else, before:</p><p>Sakumo told him to go to the park, play at something, anything. Instead, Kakashi scored in every skill contest with a disinterested expression as if it wasn't a big deal but, waiting for the moment when the audience cheered to see his father smiling proudly.</p><p>The first time he saw him, it was from a tall tree branch. Kakashi liked to stand in such places, where nothing escaped his gaze even though anyone would think he wasn’t paying attention.</p><p>Obito Uchiha wore clothes too large for him, even the goggles he carried covered almost his entire face. He stood firm on stage and tried to do a Katon no Jutsu. Emphasis on <em> tried</em>.</p><p>It wasn't a bad technique, Kakashi thought from his seat among the treetop foliage. Incomplete, of course. He could do it better. But it was the most interesting thing he had seen in the competition. The whole day.</p><p>Then Kakashi saw him from the stage while he held the first place prize in his hands. He recognized his face in the audience, his expression a mixture of outrage and frustration. </p><p>It made him laugh a little. Kakashi heard him mutter his name with the same indignant grimace and realized that he didn't know his.</p><p>That night, at dinner time, Kakashi forgot the award on top of the nearest piece of furniture and told Sakumo that he had met someone that day. Even if they hadn't exchanged a word.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>He saw him again, of course.</p><p>Kakashi didn’t believe in coincidences or fate. At the age of five, he believed in himself and his father's teachings. He also firmly believed that what is worth, you pursue it. You go after it, with determination and confidence.</p><p>They were children then. So small that the word youth didn’t completely fit them.</p><p>The war reigned over them slowly as the sea gathered before the storm, before the wave that strikes so strongly, that it rolls you against the bottom of the ocean, hits you against the sand and the shells and you go out as another person. Someone new. With more bruises and the ocean’s sand tattooed into your skin. </p><p>But they were children and while the adults made war, they played in the park. Kakashi would remember it later, that brief moment when he was a kid and the sun went down regardless of surnames or clans.</p><p>The sun did set and rose again the next day without any complications. The orange color stretching lazily over the land full of footsteps, above the park, illuminating Obito's face, his smile, his cheeks reddened from running all afternoon from one place to another. </p><p>The first afternoon they played together, Kakashi found that Obito never gave up.</p><p>"We can play something else," Kakashi shrugged after the third consecutive victory.</p><p>"I refuse! Not until I beat you." Obito replied. Curious, Kakashi thought. But he wasn’t bored.</p><p>Kakashi sighed, showing more disinterest than he felt. Obito took a few sips from his canteen to cool down a bit before trying again. He jumped up and pointed his finger at Kakashi firmly. "Again!"</p><p>"You never get tired, huh." Kakashi looked at him with an arched eyebrow, leaning in that casual way he had, against one of the games in the park. "You’ll lose again."</p><p>"We won't know that until it happens." Indignation made his eyes sparkle. Kakashi wanted to tell him <em>it's just a game, it's not that important</em>. But he ended up nodding and approaching him, ready for another round.</p><p>It was summer, they played until the sun went down, until Kakashi could feel the hair sticking to his forehead due to sweat. The scarf weighing on his neck.</p><p>He had fun at that time.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>In Konoha, there was only one type of intelligence, the one which served to complete the missions. So no one ever warned Kakashi that he lacked emotional intelligence.</p><p>No, that’s a lie. Sakumo noticed this and went to great lengths to teach his son some tact. With nil results, because everything Kakashi believed was flattery, seemed to offend Obito even more</p><p>It was fine like that, anyway. It was a funny expression to see on his face.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p><br/>When the sun finished setting and the shadows of the sunset lengthened over the park, Sakumo came looking for his son. He wore the tired smile of soldiers returning home from a mission.</p><p>With the orange sun behind him, lightening the features on his face, Kakashi's father looked different, alive, happy despite everything. </p><p>Under his eyes of fallen eyelids (the ones that Kakashi inherited), the shadows were accentuated, giving him an older look. But they also highlighted his smile. </p><p>Kakashi didn’t hesitate to run towards him. Obito stared at him from where he was resting after an afternoon of losing-- (“Next time, Bakakashi!” “Sure, sure”). </p><p>The last rays of the day continued to extend over them, giving the scene the air of a painting. At that moment everyone was alive, happy, untouched by tragedy.</p><p>With the sun on his back, Kakashi turned to look at Obito. He said goodbye with a smile and a hand gesture. Then took his dad’s hand. </p><p>Sakumo barely managed to suppress his grimace before welcoming his son, ruffling his hair affectionately, and congratulating him on those brand-new manners.</p><p>(Years later, Kakashi would forcefully close his eyes until he saw colored spots behind his eyelids. He would squeeze his eyes with a single wish, to return to that instant frozen in time. To live forever in that moment, saying goodbye to Obito, on the way to be received by his father's arms.</p><p>It was summer, he was tired after playing all day. But it was light tiredness, not the one that sticks to your bones and pulls you down, the one that he would become familiar with, later.</p><p>It was summer, they were alive. His father was smiling and Obito watched him walk away, curious black eyes (a little sad, why? He never knew, never asked---) on him. Stopped there forever, in the middle of both. </p><p>It was summer. It was hot. He said goodbye to Obito to go take his father's hand. His warm fingers intertwined with his, and Obito’s eyes--)</p><p>Once home, Kakashi sat across from his dad at the table to tell him about his day while they were having dinner. He told him that his name was Obito and that he never gave up, just as he had taught him. That he didn’t abandon his comrades either.</p><p>"He sounds like a good boy, Kakashi. You should invite him to come over, one of these days," he said with a relieved smile. </p><p>Kakashí knew that his father worried that he couldn’t make friends, so he told him about Obito. To ease his worries, and maybe because of something else. </p><p>"We could go fishing, see who catches the most fish--"</p><p>"Ah, Kakashi. not everything has to be a competition." Sakumo laughed slowly, fondly.</p><p>"But it's fun."</p><p>"As long as you both are having fun"</p><p>"I had a good time today," Kakashi said, nodding solemnly. Better than ever, really. Obito was fun, he decided.</p><p>Sakumo smiled, Kakashi recognized how the calm relaxed his posture, free of the harshness he felt at times. Satisfied, he picked up the food.</p><p><em> You are my greatest pride</em>, Sakumo muttered that night as he peeked into Kakashi’s room to make sure he slept. <em> I am sure you will grow into a wonderful man</em>.</p><p>Kakashi waited for him to leave before turning on the light to keep reading, his heart swelled.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>They played again, Kakashi kept winning, and the sun continued to ignite the plaza in the same way. The orange light that shone lazily on Obito's face was slow to go, perhaps all light always took longer to disappear when it met Obito.</p><p>Kakashi thought about it, but not like that, it was more a sensation, a sting in his hands when he reached for the canteen at the halftime break and for an instant, the tips of his fingers touched.</p><p>That day he discovered that the girl he always hung out with was named Rin.</p><p>"You spoil him too much, Rin," Kakashi stated crossing his arms as Rin put a patch over a wound on Obito's knee.</p><p>"No one asked you, Bakakashi!"</p><p>"It's true-- You want to be a ninja right? Rin won’t be able to heal every wound of yours on the battlefield.”</p><p>"Who says I won’t?" Rin looked up at him with a mixture of determination and affection. "I'm going to be a ninja too, and I'm going to be there to heal you both."</p><p>"It’s not necessary." Kakashi looked away, frowning. "I won’t get hurt."</p><p>"Liar." Obito dusted himself off and with his patched knee, stood up to face him. "You are just like any of us, Bakakashi."</p><p>Kakashi stared at him without fully understanding what he was referring to, eyes generally asleep completely open and fixed on Obito. Rin smiled. They kept playing all afternoon.</p><p>They could have been his friends. He could have loved them as he loved his father. He even thought about inviting them home, perhaps that could have brought a little joy to Sakumo's eyes, who seemed more tired every day.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>They kept seeing each other, almost every day at the same time. Almost.</p><p>Kakashi always walked the same road from his home to the park. That’s where he heard the first whisper; <em> Is that the son of the White Fang? </em> He continued walking without paying attention because yes, he was, the resemblance was obvious.</p><p>The next whisper came to him as if something massive had hit his chest. <em> That coward. What a shame for his son</em>, and then, <em> he's a traitor</em>.</p><p>He stopped his steps automatically, suddenly possessed by anger too old and too big for someone his age. They talked about his dad, but they didn't say he was a hero and Kakashi knew, he knew--</p><p>Kakashi turned on himself to look for the source of those voices. Ninjas, of course. He didn’t hesitate to cross the distance that separated them in strides that compensated for his short child legs. </p><p>Standing in front of them and without giving them time to register what was happening, Kakashi hit one on the knees. It wasn't the hit of a child, it was the hit of a ninja. The man doubled over himself and that gave Kakashi a chance to throw a punch to his face, taking advantage of the impulse to lunge at the second.</p><p>He was better than them, much better, he thought. And that was because his dad had taught him. Because it had always been them and Kakashi grew up on his back watching him fight. That's why he knew where to hit, how much strength to give until he heard a crack. Till he saw with satisfaction how they ran away, cursing the Hatake clan under their breath.</p><p>He arrived at the park later, hiding his hands in his pockets so that no one would ask about the scratches on his knuckles. The wounds he supposedly never had.</p><p>Obito caught sight of them, raised his head, and met Kakashi's gray eyes, waiting to hear what he would have to say about it. </p><p>There was an unspoken question in Obito's eyes, concern, perhaps. The strange feeling of knowing that yes, even Kakashi had injuries.</p><p>Rin's voice interrupted them, asking if they were going to fight again. Kakashi kicked the can again and Obito resumed his run through the park.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>They entered the Ninja Academy together, too.</p><p>Kakashi stood up without haste, arms crossed, and a bored expression as if he wasn't paying attention when the teacher called him. Still, he answered correctly, naming each basic battle formation.</p><p>Obito had his eyes on him and didn’t listen when the teacher said his name, hanging back in his seat at a question that he couldn’t answer. </p><p>"It's basic, Obito. You should know that already." Kakashi told him after school, leaning against the door that led to the exit, with overactive disinterest.</p><p>"It's a Ninja Academy. We came here to learn ninja stuff! We're not supposed to know everything." Obito raised his voice and Kakashi shrugged, as always.</p><p>"That's not everything. And I already knew that." He didn't say it was because he had learned it from his father. He knew that Obito lived alone with his grandmother and he thought it was in bad taste to remark on it. Obito stuck his tongue out at him and Kakashi almost, <em> almost </em>laughed.</p><p>Rin arrived shortly after and they returned home together.</p><p>"Were you already fighting?"</p><p>"Obito fights alone, Rin."</p><p>"It takes two to fight." A victorious smile filled Obito's entire face.</p><p>Kakashi looked at him for a few more seconds than necessary. The annoyed expression on his face was still funny, but his smile...</p><p>The three of them walked together to the point where the road divided. Then, each one wandered their route till home. For a second, Kakashi wished they didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Once, he saw him train. </p><p>It was winter and the cold got into his clothes, the snow hardly distinguishable when it fell on his gray hair. Kakashi was also training, but not buried under the snow in the middle of the park where they used to play to kick the can.</p><p><em> He never really gives up, huh</em>. Kakashi thought. He remembered his father's words about perseverance and felt something warm in his chest, something capable of melting the snow that accumulated on his feet.</p><p>He considered approaching to give Obito a hand, but Rin arrived earlier and Kakashi continued on his way.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>They didn't leave the academy together, no.</p><p>The night before the night Sakumo committed seppuku, Obito saw Kakashi's knuckle scrapes again. </p><p>It might have been the ridiculously demanding training that Kakashi was undergoing, but something within himself, something far more instinctive than his first conclusion told Obito that it wasn't about that.</p><p>It was during one training session at the Academy. Kakashi offered him his hand to get up off the ground and Obito held it for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. Standing up, he stared at the marks on his knuckles.</p><p>"Kakashi," he raised his face but this time he didn't meet the expectative look in his gray eyes, just a weariness that seemed too ancient for someone his age. "That thing you have there..."</p><p>He opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could even think of anything, Kakashi removed his hand and gave him a cold look. Freezing. </p><p>Obito didn’t get to ask him again. Kakashi stopped going to the Academy after a while and then he found out that Kakashi had already graduated, all without even saying goodbye.</p><p>Obito wasn’t angry. It was weird not to be angry at him because Kakashi always pissed him off. But instead, he asked about him, over and over.</p><p>All he got were evasive and pity-laden glances that didn't sit well with Kakashi's name.</p><p> </p><p>*<br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>Kakashi sat down to watch the river run in front of the park where no one played anymore. There wasn’t time to play when war was no longer a problem for adults, and children soon ceased to be ones when any age was old enough to take up a weapon and kill.</p><p>The water ran indolent. Kakashi saw nothing in its course. He also couldn't see anything in the orange shadows that cast the sunset over the river.</p><p>He didn't notice Obito looking at him.</p><p>His bearing was no longer a child’s one, and his eyes were too old for him. It wasn’t a highly embattled clan, but now Kakashi was the only Hatake in the village. That kind of thing changes a kid.</p><p>Obito saw him in front of the river and without knowing anything, his silhouette looked infinitely sad. Like a painting that he couldn’t understand but seemed to tell a story full of tragedy.</p><p>It was no longer summer. Time seemed stagnant, dead there. Without knowing why Obito kept walking, Kakashi didn’t turn to see him.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Kakashi sat facing the river, his standard ninja uniform on. The grass under the palm of his hands felt rough, from one moment to the next the most common and ordinary things were uncomfortable. The uniform clung to his skin, he felt it contract around him, suffocating him and swallowing him whole.</p><p>He thought about it, his gaze fixed on the crystal clear water. He should have been used to it already, yet the stinging spread over his skin making him feel uneasy and irritable. He threw a stone into the water, bounced a few times, then watched it sink to the bottom of the river.</p><p><em> If you are weak, you sink. </em> Kakashi thought. <em> If you don't follow the rules, no one is going to get you out of the bottom. </em></p><p>With that thought embedded, his gaze took on a dangerous edge. As if he were facing something much more personal than the course of the water.</p><p>Once he asked his dad what happened to the river’s water, where did it go? Sakumo told him that one day they would go to the sea. Until now, not even missions had taken him to the coast.</p><p>Obito approached because from where he was, he could notice an ancient veil darkening Kakashi's gaze. It wasn’t right. </p><p>Kakashi felt him approach, but realized he didn't care, a feeling of unreality above him. Obito belonged to another world now. His words came muted by the mist from the distance that separated their lives.</p><p>"You vanished one day, but I knew you've been busy with missions, real missions, so I... wanted to tell you that..."</p><p>Even with how far away he heard every word that came out of his mouth, Kakashi felt something unease. Similar to the feeling that had pushed Obito to ask him, to speak to him.</p><p><em> What nonsense</em>. Kakashi closed his eyes for a moment. <em> Ninjas shouldn’t care about these things. </em></p><p>He felt Obito's hand on his shoulder like the happening of something impossible, the weight of huge buildings collapsing, slipping from something liquid and warm, like blood. He pushed him away immediately, possessed by the need to get away from what was going on.</p><p>Obito’s presence felt so unbearably alive.</p><p>He got up without answering any of his questions before Obito’s surprised look, who did nothing more than watch him walk away.</p><p>Kakashi didn’t reply again, not until a long time after.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Obito approached because Kakashi couldn’t be the same person the adults were talking about. A cocky brat who didn't care about his comrades.</p><p>Cocky yes, that was very believable, but Obito refused to accept the second part.</p><p>During the only moment that Kakashi turned to see him, Obito felt something icy settle in his stomach. He had never seen a corpse, but at that moment he thought <em>this is what the eyes of the dead look like. </em></p><p>Not even a word. He suddenly realized that before (before-- of what? Of the missions. Of death, he didn’t know. He should have known, perhaps. If he had known--) many times it was Kakashi who initiated the exchanges, even if it was with a sarcastic remark or some criticism that Obito didn’t find at all constructive.</p><p>At the time, it seemed to Obito that <em>before </em>was tragically far from the present.</p><p>The gravity felt much heavier than it should be for someone his age, anchoring him to the ground as he watched Kakashi walk away. His back slashed against the setting sun, making that unspoken farewell final.</p><p>The silhouette of Kakashi disappeared against the light in the strip that marked the horizon and Obito decided that he was going to reach it, at any rate.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The thing was simple, that’s how Kakashi came to understand it:</p><p>If you don't follow the rules you die. Your six-year-old son finds you open and covered in blood in the middle of the living room. If you don't follow the rules, the village you must die for turns its back on you. People point at you. They murmur behind your back or in front of you, it doesn't matter anymore because you're trash anyway.</p><p>They won that night and there was no way to defeat them. No one ever took it upon themselves to disregard that belief that continued to cling to Kakashi's heart with teeth and nails, replacing pain, fear with dry, ill-contained rage.</p><p>There wasn’t any reason to do it. Kakashi fulfilled each mission that was entrusted to him. He knew how to infiltrate enemy territory. He knew how to kill before he was even half the drinking age. Technically, nothing was wrong. </p><p>On his way back from a successful mission, sometimes he passed near the park. With dried blood behind his nails and between the most difficult to reach corners of the folds of his clothes.</p><p>Without time to recall or become nostalgic, Kakashi just passed by. He had to get to the department to write his report, impeccable and always on time.</p><p>Once and by pure chance he kicked a can that had been forgotten, half-buried by the hustle and bustle of other playing children. Children who weren’t them. Children whom they would never be again. Children of civilians, without the war depredating their life so evidently.</p><p>Kakashi kicked the can and the orange color of a sunset that was still spreading its weak light over the swings reminded him of someone else, one summer afternoon running in circles, his father going to look for him, his father listening to the stories of a child who shared his values and beliefs.</p><p>He watched the can roll a few meters away from him and was intoxicated by the inexplicable need to tear it to pieces with his hands.</p><p>Kakashi quickened his pace to get home and never again passed near the park. The sunlight hurt.</p><p>Fear and rejection are similar when they mix in young hearts and nest new terrors, where there should be love and flowers, not dust and ashes.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>He accepted the Hokage's instructions with his head down only because the rules included formalities such as respect for the authorities. Always his weak point, Kakashi knew.</p><p>Staring at the ground, he clenched his fists. He thought about how annoying the sunlight was. How the smoke from the battlefield became more comfortable, easier to get lost in.</p><p>"I don't get it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I have already proven my worth as Chuunin. You can review my file, Hokage-sama."</p><p>"It is not about your courage, Kakashi." the Third spoke to him with patience and detachment. "The teams are three-man cells. Your strength is needed with them now."</p><p>"With Genins," he stated listlessly. The floor looked more interesting, fuzzy with strands of his hair covering his eyes.</p><p>"Yes, with Genins and also with a Jounin sensei, who will know how to make the best of your abilities."</p><p>Kakashi was silent, he knew he wasn't going to win an argument against the Hokage, but there was always a part of him looking for an argument, making his fingertips itch like before a thunderstorm.</p><p>"Your strength was of great help in the first line," the Third continued, reciting something learned by heart but trying to give it a tone of ceremony that wasn’t convincing Kakashi. "No further exams were necessary, but times change and we must adapt to them. It is part of being a shinobi. "</p><p>"I understand," he said, without understanding or faking interest in doing so. Kakashi, stiff posture, and more smoke than a person, just waited for the instructions.</p><p>"But there are still things to learn, Kakashi. And it's always better to learn them as a team."</p><p>Kakashi just nodded, barely suppressing the voice bellowing in his head: <em> What things? It would be easier for them to tell me, to give me the manual, to specify what it takes to be a ninja because I have completed each one of the missions they gave me-- </em></p><p>His stream of consciousness was slowed and muted the moment the Third spread the scrolls with information from his new team in front of him.</p><p>Rin Nohara. Obito Uchiha. Minato Namikaze.</p><p>Kakashi was struck by the feeling of looking directly at the sun, the stinging burning his gaze. You can't look at it without melting your eyes, so you look the other way, irritated.</p><p>The air collected in his lungs was like a cool breeze for the flowers that never managed to grow between his ribs.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>With all his infuriating flexibility, his air-filled smile, and a calmness that only comes with the confidence of knowing you are deadly, Minato didn't tell him what he was missing, either.</p><p>Sometimes he offered him a sad look, impossible to decipher. Then Kakashi's stomach cracked, his bones filled with electricity.</p><p>Obito screamed "Bakakashi, I found the last cat!" and Kakashi, for a second forgot about it, exasperated at having lost at catching silly cats.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Obito was late, of course. Kakashi gave him one of his irritated glances, but the veil in his gaze seemed slightly more transparent when he pointed a finger at him and raised his voice to scold Obito again.</p><p>Amid the exchange of insults, he once remembered the bubbling feeling of curiosity he felt at seeing him, the tickling, the not being bored after provoking him again.</p><p>Kakashi turned his back to stride forward, muttering something about starting the mission. The memory of something clutched at his chest with thousands of hands, an annoyance, the similarity he decided that must be rejected.</p><p>How annoying the sunlight was.</p><p>Irritated, his footsteps echoed like thunder too heavy for someone who seemed to be made of smoke.</p><p><em> I'm not going to trade</em>, he thought, staring straight ahead. <em> No one understands what’s at stake. Not Minato-sensei, with his fame in all nations and his family waiting for him to get home. Not Rin with her calm smile and the naive kindness of someone who doesn’t know malice. Not Obito with his restless walk and the ease of his anger. </em></p><p>He kept walking without hearing the voice calling out to him: “Bakakashi, not so fast!”</p><p>He kept thinking; <em> nobody understands. </em></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>(Obito had seen his back in the river and had looked for him and wanted to speak to him, to ask him, to know. Obito who admired the White Fang without knowing that it was the same man with the sleepy smile who went to look for Kakashi in the park and took him by the hand as parents usually did. Obito, who didn’t know his parents. Who lived his life being good, swelling his heart with affection and the sweets he kept in his pockets, the sticky fingers of melted sugar. Obito who could have understood.</p><p>Who would understand, time later. Who understood the moment he knew. Obito who regretted not having known).</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The shadow of his dead father's sword was cast on the walls of his room. The walls of his entire home.</p><p>On the dresser, on top of the box where he kept the photos, the comb, his old scarf. There was the sword. And if the moon hit the right angle, there was still stubble of dried blood.</p><p><em> A Shinobi should not carry excessive baggage</em>, Kakashi recited to himself. <em> Nothing that hinders their mobility</em>. He excused himself saying it was a good sword and kept it.</p><p>The same shadow was cast on his footsteps, on every step. He woke up in the middle of the night with the smell of blood on his nose and recognized the shadow in the dark, even though at night all shadows are black and equal.</p><p>Kakashi closed his eyes and counted to ten, waiting for the still fresh image to fade; the room without light and the blood running between the tiles on the floor.</p><p>They had cleaned the floor together a few days ago and now the blood was slipping right into the hard-to-reach corners. Kakashi remembered thinking it was going to be a mess to clean up.</p><p>When he was especially irritated, his footsteps seemed made of lead, making the earth resonate under his weight. But that day Kakashi was pure smoke. Only a breath and he disappeared, ignoring the world around him.</p><p>Rin gave him an awkward smile and then looked away, standing on the training ground as they waited for Obito.</p><p>Obito came mumbling something about grandmothers, sweets, and cats. Kakashi didn’t interrupt him to scold him and a freezing wind left them all silent.</p><p>Kakashi was a tragedy shrouded in smoke and leftovers. Minato only gave him a look of mild concern before giving the details of the training. The languid silence where someone could have said something was left behind. So, Obito--</p><p>"Bakakashi!"</p><p>Obito was the attempt, that fireball that breaks through and is more explosive than lightning and stays forever, not like smoke. The combustion that burns, and doesn’t let there be anything more than him when all the space is his, burning the oxygen.</p><p>Like suddenly popping a balloon with a pin, Kakashi turned to see him, like a half-open curtain through which a single ray of light slips in. The start of the fire.</p><p>"It is a competition now"</p><p>"I'm not interested."</p><p>"Scared? Who would say you would be a coward."</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>"As I was saying, it's a competition," He pointed his index finger at Kakashi, swallowing the passing sun. He adjusted the goggles and sentenced. "I remind you that I won the last time, with the cats."</p><p>"Cats aren’t a mission. Whatever, I'm going to win." Obito smirked, puffy chest and determined expression, treating every little mission as the most important challenge.</p><p>The open window, the little ray of sun transformed into incandescent light and the fresh breeze of the summers that still remained.</p><p>Kakashi gave more attention to Minato-sensei's last orders and with a clear face, he devoted himself to fulfilling the mission, silly though it was.</p><p>Obito didn't know of shadows or swords or memories, but he didn't look away or let the silences widen the distance in the team. Instead, he shouted <em> Bakakashi</em>! A few more times. Kakashi sighed in exasperation but accepted the challenge.</p><p>While searching for cats under Konoha's benches, the shadows became thinner and his walk lighter.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>(Kakashi, thirty years and a memory. Blame the genius brain that with vivid detail retained everything, every scent, every texture.</p><p>The last survivor of Team Minato ran his fingers over a photo protected from the passage of time, sheltered like all the things he kept in a box that rested under his bed. Free of dust and forgetfulness.</p><p>"We were kids," he murmured. "You didn't have to know and you were still trying harder than anyone, Obito."</p><p>He couldn't notice it before. Stupid who doesn’t realize that the best days of his life are happening now, at this moment, and god how are you going to miss them later. You’ll regret not having stopped on that mission in front of the lake that looked like the sea, watching the sunset over the water that had nothing to do with the river but was not the ocean either.</p><p>The way Obito's profile lit up when he ran in to feel the water on his feet. It was so different. Or maybe they had all changed with the river and the lake and maybe Kakashi did stop to observe him, just a second before saying that it was time to continue with the mission.</p><p>A second wasn’t enough to feed him for the next six years, but it was enough to change his life to pieces, shreds, badly stuck fragments of a tight and narrow heart.</p><p>Obito convinced them to organize a surprise party for Rin on her birthday and suddenly they were children buying gifts and pretending they didn’t understand when others asked about Rin’s birthday. </p><p>Kakashi didn't realize how he ended up laughing with them in the afternoon, how important it was to not be alone.</p><p>Perhaps what he thought in the park once was true, at the age of five, with a loving, breathing father who wanted to meet his friends. Friends whom he could love.</p><p>He did. Kakashi, thirty years old. The photo between his rough fingers and the quiet murmur of his lips. "I could have loved them. I did truly. I still do."</p><p>The photo had brown edges because the passage of time is inevitable, but Obito smiled at the camera, and Rin's eyes were warm and nobody was dead at the moment.</p><p>"Please, please. Realize that these are the best years of your life and that they won’t return."</p><p>Kakashi closed his eyes, and with all his logic he wished the words reached the boy who he could never be.)</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Kakashi looked suspiciously at the papers that marked the steps to follow to be classified as a Chunin. Beside him, Rin bit her lower lip in a gesture Kakashi recognized as nervousness, excitement, and anticipation.</p><p>Obito didn't even take time to read the first line. He jumped on Minato-sensei and hung like a little animal, exclaiming his thanks to the heavens. Kakashi shook his head and returned his gaze to the paper, carefully analyzing its contents.</p><p>There were no exams or accreditations when Kakashi was promoted. Formalities could wait in times of war. But the fighting had eased a bit...</p><p>"It will be a good opportunity, Kakashi. To test your skills."</p><p>"I agree, sensei." He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "I’ll be able to renew my accreditation and compare my skills with those of the generation."</p><p>Minato nodded satisfied, Obito was just finishing jumping.</p><p>"Rin, Obito?"</p><p>"Someone has to take care of the boys," Rin said with his half innocent half daring smile.</p><p>"Count on me, sensei!"</p><p>Compare skills. Accreditation. It sounded a lot more compelling than wanting to keep an eye on his teammates, just in case. Kakashi didn't say anything about that.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>He might have noticed that he already loved them if he hadn't been so intent on rejecting everything that reminded him of his father. Because it hurt, like the sunlight bothered him.</p><p>When something hurts you remove it, naturally, humanly.</p><p>It wasn’t disabling. Kakashi accompanied them to eat ramen, Obito was late. Kakashi scolded him and Rin excused him with that half-embarrassed and apologetic smile. Obito recited his justifications and argued until the ramen was steaming and warm in front of them.</p><p>He forgot as well. The sun filtered through the Ichiraku blinds and only itched a little. Like the heat tingling in summer.</p><p>But love reminded him of his father. Obito said something, anything, and his voice was superimposed on Sakumo's. The light like a thousand needles sticking to the nape of his neck, the stinging creeping across his skin, making him want to dig out the flesh with his fingernails.</p><p>No one spoke of Sakumo in the village anymore. The accusatory murmurs were replaced by the silence of the graves. As if the man holding his hand on the way home was an unpronounceable curse.</p><p>It hurt and what hurts is scary. Even when Obito's words made sense at the end.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Kakashi became Chuunin (again) without much difficulty. There were no celebrations. It took one more year for his teammates to make it. </p><p>"Only then," Kakashi claimed, "we can take real missions."</p><p>"All missions are missions, Bakakashi," Obito replied.</p><p>"Great conclusion, genius."</p><p>"Why are you even here?"</p><p>"I have to make sure we can actually one day do more than just look for cats."</p><p>That was his excuse when he came to see them take the exam the following year, without being forced to attend. Everyone believed Kakashi’s lie, even when the affection was about to overflow from his lonely kid body. </p><p>When they celebrated together later, Obito thought there was little point in Kakashi joining them just for not wanting to look for cats. Weird. </p><p>They ate ramen and went home together, talking. Kakashi invited them into his and cooked dinner. It was a good day.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Obito screamed; "Bakakashi! You scorched your clothes." As if it was the most amusing thing. The sun hit him in the face but with the goggles on he didn’t need to close his eyes.</p><p>He stood in front of him and held out his hand, causing Kakashi to ignore the frustration of another loss against Minato-sensei.</p><p>"I don't know what's so funny."</p><p>"It’s very funny, Bakakashi. You just don’t have a sense of humor"</p><p>He forgot about his sensei's disappointed look, telling him that he still had a long way to go. He didn't look for the answer either, worried about arguing with Obito.</p><p><em> We were children, too young to understand</em>, Kakashi muttered years later. In front of him Obito, the smile whole. Youth above them.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t realize that he was willing to die for him.</p><p>Not when Obito's words were suspended in the space that separated them like the echo of something distant and longed for. Like the slap in the face he had unknowingly waited for so long.</p><p>The bucket of cold water that finally dispelled the mist, clearing his dark gaze.</p><p>He didn’t know it then, but it was already a reality. That he would receive that blade for him and that in return Obito's eyes would never be the same.</p><p>With all his intelligence, with all his genius and skill,  Kakashi failed to realize that not only could he (already did) love him, but he could also fall in love with him.</p><p>Obito hit his face hard, something that no one had ever dared to do. He approached with a confidence that Kakashi didn’t think he had allowed, but Obito didn’t care.</p><p>The belief settled in his heart, feeling ancient when they fought side by side in enemy territory. Just a look. He was no longer the same person.</p><p>Kakashi remembered a phrase; a book among many others piled on its cracked shelf: No one bathes twice in the same river, because neither the river nor you are the same. He also remembered the river in front of the plaza, the lake that washed Obito's feet. The sea they never knew. He remembered that they were no longer the same when the evening light illuminated their silhouettes and projected them over the shore that changed every time the water touched it.</p><p>He noted that yes, they were similar; the red shade of the sun’s day and the brightness of the Sharingan when Obito showed him that he would kill for him. Red like blood, like beating hearts, like fire and the feeling of being enveloped by something much bigger. Better.</p><p>None of those realizations came on time.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“I think you are a great Jonin.”</p><p>He couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t conjure the way lips touched and words were made. </p><p>
  <em> I love you.  </em>
</p><p>Kakashi didn’t say a single thing.<br/><br/></p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The ground was split with Kakashi's scream as Obito said goodbye to him. He screamed his name until he felt his throat tear, his soul cracked. No one ever gets used to death, much less the children.</p><p>Obito under the rocks, nothing more than a shattered body whose blood stained the earth under them with a color that had nothing to do with the sunsets or the sun or life or hearts.</p><p>His hands didn’t stop shaking. Open against the rock. The chest also opened with the wound that threatened to nail him there, along with what was left of Obito's body. He closed his eyes but no matter how much he wanted it, the rock remained motionless.</p><p>He would have died for him, but Obito decided to turn it upside down, and this time he kept the last word.</p><p>Kakashi couldn’t touch him, he didn’t dare. But Rin was made of iron, their fingers intertwined. She was brave and lovely even there, and Kakashi understood so many things too late. </p><p>("He was thirteen," Kakashi muttered, the expression impossible to read. "He was thirteen and he liked to eat sweets and help old women and he died to teach me a lesson.")</p><p>Kakashi felt the hot tears on his cheeks, the warmth of his trail making him notice that he was crying for the first time in more than seven years.</p><p>How does one live after that?</p><p>He shredded his father's blade. He slammed it into the steel of the enemy sword and the eye of someone he loved, even if he did it only for a second, embedded into his skull. The only wish granted. The only future, seen through the eyes of the dead. Two hearts beating in the same chest.</p><p>With the Chidori glowing in his hand and its chirping in his ears, Kakashi made the sky and thunder answer for his sorrow. It was no longer the singing of a thousand birds, but their crying.</p><p>Kakashi uttered a conceived cry of the deepest pain that can be felt. He shook the very foundations of the earth on which stood the forest in which they fought.</p><p>An animal rage emerged from his sadness, an instinct that thrived in a hidden corner of his soul. He woke it up, making it appear because Obito was dead. Obito died for him who abandoned Rin, who was trash. </p><p>And yet, Obito said: The White Fang was a hero. You are a great Jounin, Kakashi. </p><p>Obito with bare feet in the lake water. Obito didn’t know the sea. Obito made of fire and sun and everything good, alive, important. Obito with his body destroyed by the collapse, the hollow of his empty sink when Rin took the Sharingan from him.</p><p>When he opened his eyes, Minato told him that he had killed the remaining enemies. There had been only a handful. Kakashi finished them all, moved by mourning, and the first outbreak of the desire to meet Obito.  </p><p>That desire nested in his chest with the flowers that were half-grown, accompanying him for many more years.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The night sky was full of stars, clearer than everything. Maybe that was how life was through Obito’s eye. Brighter. Lonelier. </p><p>But Rin sat at his side. He took her hand, the same that so fiercely held Obito in the end. The same that without trembling, transplanted his Sharingan. </p><p>They sat under the endless sky, without any more tears to shed. The words to express what happened didn’t exist, Kakashi realized. Only their chests wide open. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Obito was the one who celebrated and organized birthdays. After his death and in the interval until Rin's, nobody mentioned anything about celebrations again.</p><p>After that, nobody mentioned anything anymore. Nevermore. There weren’t any more birthdays. Aging was meaningless. </p><p>Kakashi brought them flowers for that day, of course. But it didn't make much difference because he put flowers on their graves every day. </p><p>The memorial always had a fresh bouquet, even if it hurt. Although every day without him was punishment enough, the hurting was only a reminder. </p><p>They say that when someone you love dies, a part of you dies with them. They also say that a part of them will always live with you. Maybe if you replace the parts. If you switch them. Maybe.</p><p>No one commented anything when Kakashi started running late everywhere.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Kakashi was almost thirty years old, which in his work field was already an eternity. Too much, if someone asked his opinion. Although it was difficult to get an honest answer from him. </p><p>Another night waking up covered in sweat, shivering with his breath caught in something that wasn't quite a sob. Years of experience repressing those. He closed his eyes to see them again, the images overlapping each other.</p><p>Rin’s grimace when his hand opened her chest, the touch of her ribs breaking at the impact of the Chidori that was always lethal. Her face contracted with pain and surprise. His name whispered in reproach before she collapsed to the ground with a grotesque sound.</p><p>Rin stretched out her arm, her face disfiguring in anger. <em> Kakashi </em>said as a curse. That's where Kakashi always woke up.</p><p>He recognized the smell of blood again. The feel of blood sticking to his skin, behind his nails, between his fingers, in the folds of his clothes.</p><p>The whispering voice that told him that he had killed her. That he caused this. It wasn’t a voice that disturbed him anymore, because it wasn’t a lie. But it was never Obito’s voice. </p><p>Kakashi, almost thirty years old, closed his eyes again. He saw Obito under the rocks, his shattered body still with a clear smile when he said he was a great Jounin and asked him to see the future together.</p><p>He felt his chest contract around his heart, reminding him that it was still there, the breathing exercise difficult, but successful after three puffs.</p><p><em> There is a future to see, Kakashi</em>. That was the wish he gave him that day, it was also the promise that kept him going.</p><p>If he wanted them to see the future together, it was because there must have been one. Obito's voice dispelled nightmares and was a bit like hope.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The days after The Kannabi Bridge mission passed in a haze similar to the one that engulfed Kakashi during the days following his father's death.</p><p>Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, the Sharingan stared back at him with an alien glow. </p><p>Kakashi knew there was something different about him now, different from when he was six, different from when he was twelve. Another heart beating in his chest despite the grief and pain.</p><p>"It was a gift," he muttered bluntly when they recommended a new transplant, that the Sharingan would consume his chakra reserves, that it wasn’t well-received by the Uchiha clan. "I promised him that we would see the future together." And he didn't say anything else about it.</p><p><em> They're not going to take him away from me</em>, he wanted to say. <em> Not again. Nevermore. </em></p><p>Kakashi rested his palm on the mirror. He remembered the touch of the rock under his fingers, motionless. The mirror was cool and the Sharingan glowed, reminding him that he would never be alone now.</p><p>Standing and silent in the bathroom of his apartment, Kakashi had time to name what he kept in his chest. Love, terrible and delayed. Rage, which was present every time someone turned their backs on a companion on the battlefield. With each day that the war kept claiming victims.</p><p>Kakashi stared at his own face in the mirror, the scar across his eyelid, and the absence of any shadow or veil in the Uchihas' red eye.</p><p>He wondered, for a moment, what he would have seen if he could turn off the Sharingan. Obito's eye, even after death, more alive than his. Completely black unlike his gray one. Round and shiny still.</p><p><em> It doesn’t matter anymore</em>, he thought, vaguely running his fingertips across the glass in front of him. <em> What it’s important is what he'll see.  </em></p><p>"Obito." He said in a firm voice, full of sudden clarity. "I'm going to show you how I end this war with my own hands."</p><p>He left the bathroom with a new resolve, feeling strong, determined. He would accept all those feelings and channel them into what was his duty.</p><p>Kakashi sat down on the bed and his gaze met the memory box that he still had. Along with all the fragments of his heart, Obito’s goggles also rested there.</p><p>He had left them on the memorial on the day of the ceremony. He later removed them for cleaning but never found the courage to return them. Nobody said anything. Angrily, Kakashi thought that no one ever paid him enough attention to remember that Obito always wore goggles, that he almost religiously protected his eyes in hopes of awakening the Sharingan. That he awakened it for him. That he gave it to him.</p><p>Rin knew, of course. But Rin didn't question it.</p><p>He stared at the box but didn’t open it.</p><p>"I won't be long," he said as he finished packing. "I'll be back soon, I'm going on a mission with Rin, but don't worry. I'm going to protect her, as I promised."</p><p>Before leaving the apartment, Kakashi noticed that the walls of his room were empty. Just as the walls of his father's house had been. They never went shopping, he recalled.</p><p>There wasn't much else in the department. A futon on the floor, a shelf with books. Kakashi took a quick look and asked:</p><p>"Do you think it looks too bad, Obito?"</p><p><em> It’s as boring as you are, Bakakashi</em>. He heard him respond. <em> You should put a picture of Pakkun at least. Or a plant. </em></p><p>"I like plants. Maybe it's not a bad idea."</p><p>He didn't really mind being crazy, Obito's familiar voice muffled everything else.</p><p>"Maybe I'll go shopping on the way back. But first, we must end this war, right?" He brought his hand to the Sharingan and touched the skin of his eyelid briefly, in a caress for someone else.</p><p>Kakashi lowered the bandana to carefully cover his eye, made sure the eye drops were in his belt's pocket and left without looking back.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“How many years does it take to make it a life, Obito?”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Kakashi was thirty years old in love with a dead man, with an idea, with a handful of words that were the only thing remaining when they all left and he found himself standing in front of the ruins, wondering how everything had gone so far, to hell.</p><p>Love was inevitable and not even questioned too much.</p><p>How much time can you spend dedicating your life to a single person, to a single memory, before the feelings mix and you find yourself standing in front of the grave of who never was but should have been? He should have been so much.</p><p>Maybe he wanted it from before Obito was bone and dirt, but the thought of that hurt even more.</p><p>Sometimes Kakashi surprised himself imagining it. What Obito would have looked like at thirty. He could almost see him smiling. </p><p>Kakashi closed his eyes and saw him with tousled black hair, underneath the traditional Hokage hat. Suddenly his feet felt heavy. He would have been Hokage and Konoha would be a different place, with fewer children dying in fabricated wars, a place in which it was worth thinking about the day after tomorrow.</p><p>Kakashi hadn’t made long term plans in years. A part of him, morbid and different, expected that hopefully, he would be dead in a couple of days.</p><p>He was never that lucky. <em> Doesn’t matter</em>, he thought. <em> I had a future to show him. </em></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>It was unfair how much his new team resembled them. <br/><br/>It was also useful. <br/><br/>Not the first time that pain worked as a fuel to keep him moving. Orange was such a bright color. Kakashi even heard that the kid used to wear goggles before earing the forehead protector. The sun still itched against his skin, but it wasn't all about pain and loss. The kid said; <em>I'm going to be the next Hokage, believe it</em>. And the memories were good, too. </p><p>The girl was smart, lovely, and kind but with a dangerous edge on her look. Reminded him of still hands operating in the middle of the war, with his best friend crushed below her fingers. <br/><br/>The Uchiha hurt the most, for different reasons. He was suddenly aware of the weight of the Sharingan. <br/><br/>Kakashi wondered how much cyclic history was. He also heard Obito's voice telling him to stop being a pessimist. <em>Just for once, Bakakashi. </em></p><p>The three of them took Obito's words as a mantra, listening with such attention it was obvious now that the words were engraved into their hearts. Kakashi found himself glad to be sharing a bit of him with the world. For the first time. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Naruto's scream echoed in his guts. He stated with the conviction of the sun that he wouldn't abandon his friends, that he would bring Sasuke back.</p><p>His resolve was so great that Kakashi felt the ground stir under his feet. He thought <em>Obito lives. Perhaps it wasn’t all in vain. Maybe things can make sense. </em></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Kakashi knew himself to be selfish. Of the long list of deads he carried, Obito was always the most frequent.</p><p>The graves waved back. Kakashi mumbled an apology, not that he had preferences but Obito, the open wound that kept bleeding, in a way was also medicine.</p><p>He imagined his father shaking his head in amusement. Minato and Kushina laughing accomplices. Rin, eternal and smiling Rin saying it's okay, that she knows.</p><p>"It is because you are the best versions of yourselves when you are together, Kakashi,"</p><p>"That explains it," His laugh sounded only a little bitter, echoing in the graveyard. It bounced off the cold headstones that had nothing to do with warm, rotting faces underground.</p><p>"That explains it, Rin. Because without him... Hard to be better than trash. But I can try. For Obito. For you both."</p><p>His feet carried him in front of the cenotaph (there was not even a body to bury, they couldn't even grant him a bit of him in the earth he was walking on) and he repeated his oath.</p><p>"I try every day, Obito. To make you proud, even a little."</p><p>Kakashi was a man of routine. Every day the same ritual, waiting for the day when he could leave the memorial feeling that he may deserve that pride.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It was Obito’s birthday and like every year, Kakashi visited the memorial with a different bouquet.</p><p>Ino knew the flowers of each one of his dead, surprised by the newness, she smiled at him asking if they were for someone special.</p><p>"Ah, Ino. What a shame..." He smiled. "But you caught me, these are for someone really special."</p><p>It was Obito’s birthday and in front of the memorial, Kakashi was struck by the realization that he had been dead for more years than he had been alive. Suddenly, he felt nauseous.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Kakashi was thirty-one and in love with a criminal.</p><p>He saw his face for the first time in nearly twenty years. It was just as he had imagined it, except he wasn't smiling and that fundamental difference made his world crumble, crumble in front of him.</p><p>But he loved Obito and that love made him kneel to pick up the pieces.</p><p>"You were able to die for someone like me," he yelled. Amidst all the chaos, Kakashi noted that he never said he regretted it. "That means your heart is never going to die, that there must be something somewhere."</p><p>Obito stared at him incredulously, the surprise taking the rage off his features for a second. Kakashi let him kick his face, tear him to pieces. But Obito never gave the final blow, checking his theory.</p><p>(<em> I loved you, all this time the only thing that kept me going was the love I felt for you. I still love you</em>.)</p><p>Kakashi took a kunai and a renewed decision ran through his body with the force of a lightning bolt. A decision made from the deepest love.</p><p>It was love the only thing that kept him standing. Because Obito was alive. And why the hell he never went back to check if there was any of him left under the collapse. Why the hell didn't he try more and better?</p><p><em> Obito loved too strongly and that was what doomed him</em>, Kakashi thought. <em> Do you realize? </em>He wanted to laugh, but the misery was greater.</p><p><em> Love was supposed to save us and look where it took us</em>. Obito tried to part his chest in two and Kakashi begged to die with Obito's hand in his guts, the Raikiri tearing his heart. One last great act of love.</p><p>But they didn't die (yet) and love somehow saved him (this time) anyway.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He sutured the wound with his own hands. The infinite, dark, and twisted dimension of the Kamui surrounding him. A bit like them. Obito left him there and Kakashi cursed.</p><p>"Idiot. After all these years... You didn't even try. The appendix. Really, Obito? This was never going to kill me."</p><p>They both knew.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Kakashi was forty-four years old and in love with a hero.</p><p>A tree grew where Obito died, and when the Hokage's obligations didn’t overwhelm him, Kakashi spent his afternoons sitting on the grass in his shade.</p><p>With his eyes closed the breeze seemed like a caress. He rested his firm back against the trunk and his lazy fingers ran over the spine of a half-read book that rested on his lap.</p><p>Life hadn’t been fair to them, but sometimes the tree bore fruit and Kakashi Hatake smiled.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>"You gave your all till the end, right? As always. Typical Obito."</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just wanted to pour all my headcanons into one piece, I also wanted to pour my love for them somewhere. Trying to catch a bit of Kakashi's love.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>